Snap-Dragon

D.H. Lawrence (1885–1930). Amores. 1916

SHE bade me follow to her garden, where
The mellow sunlight stood as in a cup
Between the old grey walls; I did not dare
To raise my face, I did not dare look up,
Lest her bright eyes like sparrows should fly in
My windows of discovery, and shrill “Sin.”

So with a downcast mien and laughing voice
I followed, followed the swing of her white dress
That rocked in a lilt along: I watched the poise
Of her feet as they flew for a space, then paused to press
The grass deep down with the royal burden of her:
And gladly I’d offered my breast to the tread of her.

“I like to see,” she said, and she crouched her down,
She sunk into my sight like a settling bird;
And her bosom couched in the confines of her gown
Like heavy birds at rest there, softly stirred
By her measured breaths: “I like to see,” said she,
“The snap-dragon put out his tongue at me.”

She laughed, she reached her hand out to the flower,
Closing its crimson throat. My own throat in her power
Strangled, my heart swelled up so full
As if it would burst its wine-skin in my throat,
Choke me in my own crimson. I watched her pull
The gorge of the gaping flower, till the blood did float

Over my eyes, and I was blind—
Her large brown hand stretched over
The windows of my mind;
And there in the dark I did discover
Things I was out to find:
My Grail, a brown bowl twined
With swollen veins that met in the wrist,
Under whose brown the amethyst
I longed to taste. I longed to turn
My heart’s red measure in her cup,
I longed to feel my hot blood burn
With the amethyst in her cup.

Then suddenly she looked up,
And I was blind in a tawny-gold day,
Till she took her eyes away.
So she came down from above
And emptied my heart of love.
So I held my heart aloft
To the cuckoo that hung like a dove,
And she settled soft.

It seemed that I and the morning world
Were pressed cup-shape to take this reiver
Bird who was weary to have furled
Her wings in us,
As we were weary to receive her.

This bird, this rich,
Sumptuous central grain,
This mutable witch,
This one refrain,
This laugh in the fight,
This clot of night,
This core of delight.

She spoke, and I closed my eyes
To shut hallucinations out.
I echoed with surprise
Hearing my mere lips shout
The answer they did devise.
Again I saw a brown bird hover
Over the flowers at my feet;
I felt a brown bird hover
Over my heart, and sweet
Its shadow lay on my heart.
I thought I saw on the clover
A brown bee pulling apart
The closed flesh of the clover
And burrowing in its heart.

She moved her hand, and again
I felt the brown bird cover
My heart; and then
The bird came down on my heart,
As on a nest the rover
Cuckoo comes, and shoves over
The brim each careful part
Of love, takes possession, and settles her down,
With her wings and her feathers to drown
The nest in a heat of love.

She turned her flushed face to me for the glint
Of a moment. “See,” she laughed, “if you also
Can make them yawn.” I put my hand to the dint
In the flower’s throat, and the flower gaped wide with woe.
She watched, she went of a sudden intensely still,
She watched my hand, to see what I would fulfil.

I pressed the wretched, throttled flower between
My fingers, till its head lay back, its fangs
Poised at her. Like a weapon my hand was white and keen,
And I held the choked flower-serpent in its pangs
Of mordant anguish, till she ceased to laugh,
Until her pride’s flag, smitten, cleaved down to the staff.

She hid her face, she murmured between her lips
The low word “Don’t.” I let the flower fall,
But held my hand afloat towards the slips
Of blossom she fingered, and my fingers all
Put forth to her: she did not move, nor I,
For my hand like a snake watched hers, that could not fly.

Then I laughed in the dark of my heart, I did exult
Like a sudden chuckling of music. I bade her eyes
Meet mine, I opened her helpless eyes to consult
Their fear, their shame, their joy that underlies
Defeat in such a battle. In the dark of her eyes
My heart was fierce to make her laughter rise.

Till her dark deeps shook with convulsive thrills, and the dark
Of her spirit wavered like water thrilled with light;
And my heart leaped up in longing to plunge its stark
Fervour within the pool of her twilight,
Within her spacious soul, to grope in delight.

And I do not care, though the large hands of revenge
Shall get my throat at last, shall get it soon,
If the joy that they are searching to avenge
Have risen red on my night as a harvest moon,
Which even death can only put out for me;
And death, I know, is better than not-to-be.

dumb q & a from facebook

I think this is only the second time I've ever filled out one of these "tag other people!" thingies doing the rounds of facebook. I really need less time on my hands.....

47 Questions & Answers

1. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?
My middle name is one of those "run in the family" things (my mum has it, my Nan has is, and it was my great-grandmother's first name. That looks more confusing in type than it is).

2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED?
To be honest I cried myself to sleep a few nights ago, having a big stupid sad about where my life is... Don't worry, I got over it! Life is okay, and will get even better.

3. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING?
Yes, when it’s the nice stuff. The scribbled get-it-down-fast isn’t so pretty, and my shorthand looks like mutant chicken scratchings.

4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT?
Spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam....no, really not. I just like saying it. What is a lunch meat, anyway?

5. DO YOU HAVE KIDS?
nope

6. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON, WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU?
Yep. I bring chocolate to the table. And hey, I’d know what I liked.

7. DO YOU USE SARCASM?
Sarcasm? Me? No, never. Evvver.

8. DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS?
yep

9. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP?
erm...I'm scared of my eyeballs sploinking out at the bottom :(
I'd love to skydive though, so go figure.

10. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL?
Hot porridge on a cold day...pinch of cinnamon...mmmm

11. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF?
...no. Shut up, mum.

13. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM?
I have to pick just one? Ummm... any citrus sorbet. Better *with* chocolate, course.

14. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE?
Their hands, and if they laugh easily.

15. RED OR PINK?
ew. red? I guess. At least it's not pink. Purple please. Or green.

16. WHAT IS YOUR LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF?
Hating what I look like. Must get over self. Getting there.

17. WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST?
My little sister.

18. DO YOU WANT EVERYONE TO COMPLETE THIS LIST?
Yes! Right now! ...erm, really not particularly?

19. WHAT COLOR PANTS AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING?
black pants......bare feet, who wears shoes at home?

21. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW?
a lawnmower outside somewhere and the "lush" mix on soma.fm

22. IF YOU WERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE?
…how is this different from the colour question, hmmmm?
I would be one of those ace silvery metallic ones that came out all sparkly, yeah! Bronze!

23. FAVORITE SMELLS?
Good coffee. The bush after rain. Lemon peel. Struck matches.

24. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE?
….a friggin’ telemarketer who I hung up on THREE TIMES before he got the message. Rude!

26. FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH?
Hockey! …which is more like only sport I watch. Except to laugh at curling.

27. HAIR COLOR?
Auburn turned dark by living in a cave.

28. EYE COLOR?
I’m told it’s “hazel”…brown works for me.

29. DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS?
Nope. I always wanted to wear glasses tho. Went and got tested just in case. 20/20 vision, boooo.

30. FAVORITE FOOD?
Vietnamese pho (mmm noodles). Anything Japanese (well, almost). Chocolate (duh). Nutella (evil). Yellow apples.

31. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS?
Happy endings (preferably with a decent story first). Scary movies either put me to sleep or give me bad dreams, these days.

32. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED?
You and Me and Everyone We Know (odd little American indie film)

33. WHAT COLOR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING?
…black. It has pretty lace on it though? I’m not completely boring, honest…

34. SUMMER OR WINTER?
Winter winter winter let it snoooooooow.

35. HUGS OR KISSES?
Kisses. No, wait, hugs. Wait, why do we have to decide?

37. MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND TO?
….YOU.

38. LEAST LIKELY TO RESPOND?
…YOU! …oh ok sorry, I was wrong, my bad.

39. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW?
A sci-fi trilogy called Behemoth by Peter Watts which is much better than I expected.

40. WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD?
Touch pad. Laptop. Um…fingerprints?

41. WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON TV LAST NIGHT?
Spicks and Specks!!

42. FAVORITE SOUND(S)?
My cat purring (well, any cat purring). Rain on the roof. An orchestra tuning up.

43. ROLLING STONES OR BEATLES?
Beatles.

44. WHAT IS THE FARTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME?
I guess…the UK? Is that the furthest around? Must be.

45. DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT?
I can write good like. Working on making my design eye better. Oh, and I can usually make people laugh :)

46 WHERE WERE YOU BORN?
Gosford

47. WHOSE ANSWERS ARE YOU LOOKING FORWARD TO GETTING BACK?
…YOURS! (really!)

bleh

Hum. Today is one of those days where you try and focus intently on, well, anything really, just to stop yourself thinking about checking out.

everything

Alanis is stuck in my head today:

I can be a nightmare of the grandest kind
I can withhold like it’s going out of style
I have the bravest heart that you’ve ever seen
And you’ve never met anyone who's as positive as I am, sometimes

You see everything, you see every part
You see all my light and you love my dark
You dig everything of which I'm ashamed
There's not anything to which you can’t relate
And you’re still here

I blame everyone else, not my own partaking
My passive-aggressiveness can be devastating
I'm the most gorgeous woman that you’ve ever known
And you’ve never met anyone who's as everything as I am, sometimes

What I resist, persists, and speaks louder than I know
What I resist, you love, no matter how low or high I go

You see everything, you see every part
You see all my light and you love my dark
You dig everything of which I'm ashamed
There's not anything to which you can’t relate
And you’re still here

And you're still here...

yes, let's

let's go for a drink
let's run away together
let's do coffee
let's have lunch
let's fuck on the kitchen table
let's fly a kite
let's go people watching
let's watch old movies
let's kiss on the couch
let's run in the rain
let's dress up
let's ignore the phone
let's laugh until our stomachs ache
let's shoot zombies
let's climb a mountain
let's have sex with no guiltstrings
let's snooze in the sun
let's make dinner together
let's listen to symphonies
let's go out on the town
let's dance til dawn
let's tickle the cat
let's go for a long walk
let's collect tiny shells
let's make ice cubes
let's write to each other
let's stay in bed all day
let's make coffee
let's argue about books
let's sing badly
let's get kinky
let's play hide and seek
let's drive for hours
let's let the tears come
let's light the fire
let's housekeep in the nude
let's stay up late
let's draw on the walls
let's sit quietly together
let's order in
let's have a pillowfight
let's watch the sunrise
let's fall asleep next to each other

yes. let's.

scrawl

we all sound so much more confident in type
screening over emotion
on the page
papering over past hurts
with pretty verbs and colloquial kitsch...
wallpaper words

Them that asks no questions isn't told a lie
Watch the wall, my darling, while the Gentlemen go by!

ars domestica

oh - maybe i understand.
maybe you've got one marriage so you don't want all the boring bits. again. just the bits which thrill.
maybe i'm the same.
addicted to intensity.
terrified of mediocrity and the mundane.

Where the heart is?

i just want to go home.
but i don't really know where home is anymore.

yes, but, the problem is

the problem is, i don't hate him.
the problem is, he ticks a bunch of boxes
the problem is, on paper it looks great
the problem is he went to the right schools
the problem is, he looks after me when i ask him not to
the problem is, he knows what the done thing is
the problem is, he knows who ross edwards, or carl vine is
the problem is he will be late, but he will be there
the problem is he can't smalltalk, but will tuxedo up for me
the problem is, he likes cassis, and eiswein
the problem is, he recites iron chef
the problem is, he adores me, just badly
the problem is he loathes bad design
the problem is, he's a snob, like me
the problem is he will rescue me, even when i fight it
the problem is he always has

the problem is, i grew to love him
the real problem is, i don't love him enough.

show me yours and i'll

when you're in love...
there's this... sweet, vulnerable bit, that is the bit of you i most want to see. underneath the masks real and imagined and layers of personality... heartbreakingly tender and almost too much to bear. and too much to bare, as well... it's the bit you're terrified of showing. the deepest you, stripped of every trapping. and you hold it cupped in your heart, flinchingly showing glimpses if you dare, because you know the what if? would shatter you apart. petrified when it's seen without you realising. but melting and going weak at the knees at the same time, because the oh! what if! tastes as sweet as life itself. and that's worth everything, isn't it? show me what feels like a soul.

...you, me. same thing.

walls

Sleep takes so long to come, and then I dream. Last night I dreamt I was tied to a cold stone wall, no, nothing delightful about it, sobbing until I retched and could barely breathe. I woke up with marks from my nails in my palms. Wet cheeked, and my mouth tasting of bile.

open

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
(e. e. cummings)

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look will easily unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully, mysteriously) her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

this one. that one. maybe.

ok, so, making choices = good, but which one do you choose when all of them feel wrong? why can't i see?

thanks!

oh. when you ignore your friends and go all silent on them for weeks, turns out they worry. oops. ta.

ow

i got home early (from a shoot) today. and sat down, and cried and cried and cried and cried and cried.

i'm not sure i can do this. smile and lie for the next six weeks.it hurts.

centred...?

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

I feel like I'm losing my focus, my centre. Scattering, coming adrift. Hardly touching or connecting to anything. Losing sight of what grounds me, a centre...I'm not sure where to turn to find it again.

reading material

Adult Children of alcoholics:
guess at what normal is.
have difficulty in following a project through from beginning to end.
lie when it would be just as easy to tell the truth.
judge themselves without mercy.
have difficulty having fun.
take themselves very seriously.
have difficulty with intimate relationships.
overreact to changes over which they have no control.
feel that they are different from other people.
are either super responsible or super irresponsible.
are extremely loyal, even in the face of evidence that loyalty is undeserved.

and/or characteristics:
Difficulty with identity issues related to seeking constantly the affirmation and approval of others.
Frightened by personal criticism.
Overdeveloped sense of responsibility. Concerned about the needs of others to the degree of neglecting your own wants and needs (a protective behaviour for avoiding a good look at yourself and taking responsibility to identify and resolve your own personal difficulties.)
Feelings of guilt associated with standing up for your rights. It is easier to give into the demands of others.
An addiction to excitement. Feeling a need to be on the edge, and risk-taking behaviours.
A tendency to confuse feelings of love and pity.
Avoidance of feelings related to traumatic childhood experiences. Unable to feel or express feelings because it is frightening and/or painful and overwhelming. Denial of feelings.
Low self-esteem. A tendency to judge yourself harshly and be perfectionistic and self-critical.
Strong dependency needs and terrified of abandonment. Will do almost anything to hold onto a relationship in order to avoid the fear and pain of abandonment.
Dysfunctional relationships, denial, fearful, avoidance of feelings, poor coping, poor problem solving, afraid that others will find out what you are really like, etc.
A chameleon. A tendency to be what others want you to be instead of being yourself. A lack of honesty with yourself and others.

just some things

i bite the skin off my lips when i’m concentrating or stressed (ditto the quicks on the sides of my nails, until they bleed and i don’t notice, ugh). sometimes i think i do it ‘cos the sting keeps me awake, or alert or something.
i hold pencils between my teeth and forget they’re there until someone points them out.
i poke pens into my hair and forget they’re there until someone points them out.
i bend paper clips while on the phone and usually end up chewing on them idly (jeez, orally fixated much?)
i watch people’s hands when they speak.
i feel naked if i leave the house without earrings in (wtf)
i love the smell of snow.
i crack my knuckles.
i love the click-clonk sound of walking across a room in high heels. (i am getting more and more addicted to higher and higher heels.....hmm).
i drink too much coffee and forget to eat most of the time.
i sleep curled on my side with one arm under my head.
i am a poetry nerd; i still get a kick out of knowing something's in trochaic tetrameter. (oi vey). i like onomatopoeia, too, and words that rattle on the tongue.
oh, i like semi-colons, too, speaking of word nerdery.
i love flying (in a plane...duh). especially taking off. ooh, and turbulence. i looooove turbulence, whee!
i run my fingers along walls and railings and fences when i walk somewhere. i pick leaves off street trees and crush them to see how they smell, too.
i was terrified of skeletons when i was little. (one specific "skellington" behind my door, actually. i think it was probably so that i could con my folks into leaving the door open so’s i could listen to their conversations….brat)
i have annoying hyper-flexible muscles that stretch too far.
i doodle spirals when i'm on the phone, or listening to someone. if i'm at home and don’t have any paper i’ll usually end up with an elaborate biro-tattoo on my leg.
i like drawing on skin :)
i like stripes. stars, too, just not together.
i add things up on my fingers when i don't think not to.
i have a stationery fetish (actually, lots of journos i know do); i love the smell of something newly printed.
i fold little cranes if i find a square piece of paper.
one of my my best friends died when we were both 20. i still reach for the phone to call him. often.

you know that secret little bit that you don’t tell everyone 'cos they'd think you're a braggart, where you look in the mirror and think yeah, that's ok?
i remember...
a friend (remember george?) who used to ponce about in front of the mirror... "see, if I put a bit of meat on, and squish these (hoiks boobs) up like this, i reckon i look a bit of alright!"
you wandered around naked in my flat, marvelling at how unselfconscious you felt when you were with me.
you danced excitedly in your new dress, hugging its folds around your curves.
you giggled and showed off new underwear while we were stopped at the lights.
you stood on my balcony and sang silly ditties to me in your underwear.
you agreed with me when i said you were pretty.
when i dig underneath, i ... don’t have it. that bit. oh, i have it about work things; i'm great at my job. i'm a excellent writer (if i pull my finger out), i'm an even better COS. i can juggle stuff and deal with people. i can even say i'm good at all that with some pride, without cringing too much. there's not even a smidge of me that can do the same about how i look. just ugh, all the time. i can get by if i don’t look in mirrors. in fact...there’s not really very much of me as a person that i happily look at and think yep, that’s me, and that’s a bit of alright. i am sure there used be some.
is not very healthy. needs to be changed.

eh?

well, that was unexpected, and mildly frightening.
still, the world frightens you, so ... so what, eh? once more into the breach?
i think so :)